


Gotham City Transit

by MissScorp



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Drabble Collection, Drama, Family, Gen, Gotham City Problems, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-04 14:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12773199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/pseuds/MissScorp
Summary: In Gotham, the shortest train rides can turn into the longest.





	1. Monorail Discord

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all, and welcome! This piece was inspired by a writing prompt I found on Facebook about the shortest train ride. This is a flash piece, meaning all the pieces will be between 100-750 words, but no longer than that.
> 
> Please, if you like this piece, bookmark/kudo it!

It was the shortest train ride of her life. Why she even bothered to board the monorail at the Wayne Towers station while rumors of Batman chasing down a huge flying Bat-Man creature swirled all around Wayne Enterprises, she did not know. At the time, taking the monorail had seemed like the quickest, safest way to get out of the business district. Raya now found herself wondering if her decision hadn't been fanned by an unhealthy amount of curiosity about the rampant speculation and reports that she'd heard as she made her way from Lucius Fox's office.

 _Better not tell him that is why I am on board the monorail at this time of night_ , she thought as she looked down at the figure lying at her feet.  _There will be no living with him if I admit that I am on this train because of morbid curiosity._

"Most people buy a ticket to board the monorail, yanno."

Her witty comment earned her one of the Dark Knight's infamous scowls.

"Most people are not chasing a creature like Man-Bat."

"Seems to me that he's the one chasing you," she couldn't help but point out, lips twitching with a hint of the deviltry she just couldn't contain. "And he seems to be doing an excellent job of catching you."

A screech of absolute rage echoed her statement. Metal groaned as the creature atop the car slowly made its way towards the hole in the roof. Long nails scraping across the steel was accompanied by gears grinding and metal wheels screaming as the car hurtled down the track. Batman swiped her legs out from beneath her a second before a very hairy, humanistic looking arm came through the hole that Batman made when he crashed — or got slammed by the looks of it — through the ceiling of the car. A thin membrane of skin extending between the creature's hand, each finger bone and body flapped in the breeze, reminding Raya of the sound the wings of the bats that inhabited the Batcave made as they left on their evening jaunt.

 _Only, these wings belong to a larger and much less friendly bat_...

"Ouch," she grumbled as pain radiated from where her butt hit the floor. "Could you have warned me before you tripped me?"

"Stay here," Batman rasped as he rolled to his feet. "And stay down."

"What?" She teased as she scooted over to where her purse and briefcase rest. "Afraid I might make a pet out of it?"

He sent her a faintly amused look before reaching for the grapnel gun attached to his utility belt. "Alfred would have a fit if you brought this home, imp." Another screech sounded a second before that wing-hand reached inside again. "Stay here," he told her. "And stay down."

Her harrumph followed him out of the car.


	2. Holiday Train Ride

"Tt," Damian Wayne groused as he flopped down between the two adults already seated on one of the hard metal benches. "Why are we taking this ridiculous and pointless mode of transportation when we could have easily had Pennyworth drive us into the city?"

"Because," Dick Grayson explained with the never-ending patience he had become known for, "you need to see Gotham as the city looks after it is decorated for the holidays."

A harrumph greeted that statement.

"As if I care about such a frivolous holiday, Grayson."

"You don't care about Christmas?" One black brow winged up. "Really?"

"No." Damian folded his arms across his chest and slumped on the bench. "I do not."

"You have never celebrated Christmas," the woman seated beside him said. "How do you know that you do not care about it?"

Damian cut a look at her from the corner of his eye. Kean's lips curved into a smile full of warmth and affection. Whether it was for him or Grayson he did not know. Not that he especially cared. Why his father tolerated this woman was beyond his comprehension. Kean was an outsider, an interloper, and just as inferior as Grayson, Drake, and Todd in his opinion.

"Christmas is a holiday built on greed." Damian shifted to look at her, his eyes narrowed and his mouth screwed up into a sneer. "And compacted by corporate gluttony and a complete lack of regard for things like quality."

"It is still a holiday about family," Kean retorted without heat or rancor. "And things like love and togetherness, magic and whimsy."

"Christmas is also very special to our family," Grayson told him quietly. "It has meaning steeped not only in our public lives but in our private ones, as well."

"And it is even more special this year because you are now part of the family," Kean added. "You complete our little family circle, Damian."

"You are not my family, Kean."

His snide comment was ignored just as it always was. Kean merely turned to watch as the monorail came pulling into the station.

"You will understand about Christmas when this train ride is over."

"I sincerely doubt that, Kean."

"You'll see," she repeated as the monorail came to a stop and its doors opened to allow the passengers inside to step out. "C'mon, let's find some seats."

Damian reluctantly followed the two as they joined the rest of the monorail passengers in boarding the train. He tossed himself into a seat by the window when Grayson indicated for him too and folded his arms across his chest, clearly letting them know how stupid he found this. The monorail pulled away from the station less than a minute later.

Nothing but snow-covered ground flew past the window for several minutes. He was about to turn and give a sound piece of mind to Grayson and Kean for dragging him on board this infernal monorail when he saw a golden beacon loom upon the horizon. His eyes widened when he realized it was a sixty-foot tree set in the middle of Gotham Square.

The star perched atop the giant spruce seemed to wink at him as the plethora of lights — red and gold, silver and purple, blue and gold — all twinkled cheerfully from the nest made by their spindly home. Tiny balls in various sizes, golden bells, gingerbread men, pearlescent icicles, huge bows in various jeweled shades, and a gigantic velvet sash adorned the green foliage.

Damian felt his mouth drop open as he looked at the splendor laid out in front of him. He tore his rapt gaze away and gazed down upon the other wondrous sights that awaited. Gotham looked like a festive wonderland. Lights gleamed in windows and along balustrades, glittered around lamp poles upon which wreaths had been hung, and graced the railings outside the few brownstone buildings he could see. Just when he thought his brain would explode from the sensory overload, the monorail disappeared into the tunnel that preceded the station beneath Wayne Towers.

What he initially believed would be the shortest, dullest train ride of his life...

... became one of his most cherished memories.

Not that he would tell Grayson or Kean that, of course.


	3. Date Interruptus

They knew as soon as the subway train came crawling into the station that this was gonna end up becoming the shortest train ride of their life. Train rides in Gotham tended to come with disclaimers on the back of tickets warning passengers to expect delays. If one counted train stations being blown up, tracks ripped up and tossed around as if they were nothing more than building blocks, and trains topped over on their sides or turned into weapons as  _delays_.

That one car out of the normal ten even made it back to the station, and in  _almost_ one whole piece was something of a miracle. The smoldering train, once a shiny silver with streaks of blue and red, came to a stop amidst a whine of gears, sputtering sparks from loose electrical wires, and with one door mangled and the other missing.

"Clearly," Dick Grayson murmured to the woman standing beside him. "There was some sort of trouble somewhere in the tunnel."

"Wanna take bets on who was involved?" She sent him an easy smile. "Because my money is on our littlest spawn."

Dick was about to tickle her for her cheek but there was a loud  _bang_! and a huge puff of choking black smoke that announced that the engine had reached the end of its existence. Dick coughed and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Okay, make that serious trouble," he managed. "And I'm placing bets that it was Batman more than Robin."

"I told you we should have walked the few blocks to the theater," Raya joked as she fanned herself with the magazine she held in one hand. "Especially after what happened a few weeks back on the monorail with Man-Bat."

Around them on the platform, the rest of the stranded passengers started to quietly speculate about what or who had caused the damage to the train. Many names, most of them the usual crowd of suspects one would assume as being involved could be heard being bandied about: Batman, Joker, Two-Face, Killer Croc.

A few of the more knowledgeable folk even murmured names like League of Assassins and Crime Syndicate. That none of them were overly surprised by what was going on was a hallmark of the stalwart attitude possessed by Gotham's citizens. No matter how often Gotham found itself embroiled in some sort of firefight or feud, the citizens just rolled with the punches and trusted that her silent guardians would make everything okay.

"So," Dick said once the crowd started to disperse. "I'm gonna hazard a guess here and say that someone started a fight with Batman that resulted in the rest of the subway cars, and probably a great deal of the tunnel, and track becoming collateral damage."

Raya made a soft sound of agreement deep in her throat.

"Who has Batman been in fights with the past week or so?"

"Well, there was Man-Bat a few weeks back." A frown pursed his brow as he ticked off the rest of the names. "Then there was Killer Moth on Monday and Two-Face gave him and Robin some trouble last night. And Poison Ivy was in there somewhere. Oh," he added after a moment's pause. "And there was another incident with Man-Bat in there, too."

"Hm." Raya adjusted the strap of her purse and glanced at the sizzling train car. "Don't think any of them are likely involved in this particular situation. It's a bit outside their wheelhouses."

"Who else could it be then?"

Her shoulders lifted into a faint shrug.

"Your guess is as good as mine, bird boy."

Three seconds later, who the culprits were got answered when a burst of flame exploded from the tunnel that the lone subway car had puttered out of a few minutes before. A second later the flames belched out a figure who soared up towards the ceiling on wings sticking out from the jetpack affixed to their back. A second figure, cloaked in unrelieved black, dangled from a thin wire tangled around the left boot of the first.

"Well," Dick muttered as he watched Firefly burst through the glass ceiling and disappear into the night sky. "Guess we know who Batman is fighting tonight."

"Think we should offer to help him?"

Dick shook his head. "Absolutely not."

One dark brow lifted. "And why exactly do you think we shouldn't offer to help?"

His lips curved into a smile. "C'mon, Rae, you know Batman doesn't like to share his playmates with us."

"Not the fun ones, anyway," she groused. "Always leaves us the boring ones to play with. Swear the man didn't learn how to share when he was a kid."

"C'mon," he cajoled. "I'll make up for him and Firefly spoiling our evening by buying you an ice cream cone down at Panzooni's Ice Cream Parlor."

She canted her head to look at him with a rising degree of interest and just a hint of that impish delight that always turned him into putty in her hands shining in the depths of her eyes.

"Peppermint?"

"Yes, peppermint." He chuckled as he draped an arm around her waist and started to lead her from the platform. "Swear they only keep that stuff on hand year round because of you."

"Well, it also helps that Bruce owns the place."

"Of course, he does," he replied as they made their way from the station. "Just like he owns Tim's favorite coffee shop, our favorite restaurant, and that bakery Jason gets doughnuts from."

Raya tipped her head against his arm.

"That's because Bruce is a very sentimental man and likes having things that remind us of him all around him."

"He has an entire wall in the Cave covered with our report cards, essays, letters of acceptance, and whatever other awards and things we got as kids."

"Yup," she said. "And he has a copy of  _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_  on the table by his bed."

Only she would know something like that. Only she could, he realized. It was the first fairytale she had ever been read and carried significance not only for her but for the man who had read it to her.  _And to me when I couldn't sleep_ , he thought as he hailed a cab.

"That book still has no pictures in it, Rae."

"And you still lack an imagination, bird brain."

He chuckled as a cab pulled up to the curb.

"You should get him to read it after he gets in." He opened the door. "Have a feeling he will need something to help him sleep."

"Mm," she replied as she climbed into the cab. "Make sure you bring cookies and milk when you join us."

"I'm sure Alfred will have them waiting." He climbed in and closed the door. "Panzooni's," he told the cab driver.  _As he always has them waiting_ , he added silently as the cab slowly entered the slow-moving traffic.


	4. Calendar Day

"On Christmas Day, the red man comes in his sleigh, bearing gifts and trinkets for all the good little boys and girls," he whispered into the empty silence of the train car. "What will he bring you, Batman? A new suit? Some new little gadget? Will it, I wonder, be anything as grand as what I have decided to give you?"

He reached into a big velvet bag the color of fresh blood and pulled out some of the gifts he had wrapped in brightly festive wrapping paper before boarding the train precisely twenty-five minutes ago. He placed the presents around the pole he decorated with twinkling lights in multiple colors, a pearlescent garland that gleamed like fresh snow, and a flaxen-haired angel with her eyes cut out.

"Christmas," he murmured thoughtfully. "It is considered a time for love. Togetherness. It sounded like the perfect occasion to shower my newest love in the sort of gifts guaranteed to bring a smile to her sweet face. Roses, chocolates, a fetching little negligée."

A brief smile touched his lips.

"You could say I had overdone things, and in truth, I had. Twenty-four presents is a bit much when you and your love have never had so much as the pleasure of a formal introduction. Ah, but I knew I could correct my deplorable lack of manners if I could but arrange a meeting between my lady-love and myself. I was optimistic that our future would be as bright and gay as this holiday season if I could just speak to my love."

The train paused to allow for another subway train to pass on the opposite track. He watched for a moment, silently contemplating who the other passengers were, and imagining them as being gift-bearers like himself. When the train resumed its trek, he finished setting out the rest of the packages in his sack.

"So, I followed my love to her home in the Narrows. I professed my love to her in her entrance hall. She refused me, shouted for help. I drowned out her screams with songs about peace on Earth and mercy mild. Sadly, she was not impressed with my efforts. So, instead of stealing her breath away with my thoughtfulness, I simply stole her breath."

He canted his head to the side as he studied his work, looking for any last-minute things needing fixing before getting the last, and by far largest package from the bag. This square box, wrapped in silver paper and fitted with a big blue bow he placed in front of all the others. Twenty-four packages in various shapes and sizes for twenty-four days. _And the twenty-fifth left for Batman alone to unwrap for himself on Christmas._

"Tell me, Batman," Julian Day mused as he exited the empty car once it came to a stop at the next station. "Will you sit to Christmas dinner with your family? Will you choose to celebrate this season of love and togetherness with them? Or will you come to see retrieve this special Christmas gift I have left for you? I'm curious to see what your answer will be. I hope that you won't make me wait until New Years to find out."

He blended with the few straggly passengers who joined him on the platform and slowly made his way up to the snow-covered streets above, humming "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," as he went. It might have been the shortest train ride of his life, but it was certainly the most joyous.

 


	5. Holiday Express

_Trust the night_.

Batman told him that not long after he started training as Robin. He had not understood what the phrase meant when he initially heard it. It had seemed like such an odd concept to him. Then he started to learn it wasn't the  _night_  that Batman meant to trust so much as  _himself_. Trust in his abilities, in the skills he possessed, in his family, and his friends. He learned much during his tenure as Robin.

 _Trust the night_.

The phrase flashed through Red Robin's mind as a searchlight zigzagged across the sky and illuminated the alley briefly. Police sirens sounded as he pulled off a manhole cover, but he ignored them as he dropped down into the shadowy tunnel. His cloak fluttered down around him as he landed on the slime and offal coated ground. The tunnel was large enough for him to stand upright; the storm drains and sewer system that snaked below Gotham rivaled those found in Paris.

He moved swiftly along the tunnel, his footing sure despite the complete darkness he found himself enveloped in. The stench here didn't bother him, he had learned long ago to dab a salve made of eucalyptus oil beneath his nostrils before entering anywhere where foul smells might dwell in abundance. His earpiece crackled a second before he heard a familiar rasp in his ear.

"How far are you from the North Corridor?"

The North Corridor was a project abandoned long ago by the Gotham Transit Commission. Originally intended to function as the connection between the commuter lines, the plans were abandoned when it was decided to put in the Diamond Express Line at a deeper level. Now, the corridor served as an emergency runoff drain during severe storms. In this case, it would grant him fast access to the runaway subway train hurling through the tunnel below his feet.

"I'm here now," he said as he bolted around a T-intersection. "How long do I have before the train reaches this part of the tunnel?"

"Forty-five seconds."

Then there was a click and the only sound he heard was that of dripping water. He closed it out as he reached into a small compartment on his belt and removed a small quantity of plastic explosive. He quickly molded it in a three-foot-wide circle in the middle of the floor. He moved back ten feet, shielded himself with his cloak, and triggered the built-in detonation button.

The flash would have been blinding were it not for the polarizing filters in his mask blocking it out. His cloak and the earpiece in his one ear dampened the sound of the blast, and the shaped charge directed most of it downward into the tunnel below. Even still, it was not an experience he wanted to repeat anytime soon.

Through the huge plume of dust and mist that clogged the air, he could see a ragged hole, it's entire circumference riddled with rebar. The thick floor was, at this juncture, also the ceiling of the Diamond Express tunnel. He felt the vibrations start as he stepped to the edge of the hole. Even now he could see a thin beam of light from the rapidly approaching train.

He would only have one shot at this.

If he missed, this would turn into the shortest train ride in the lives of all the passengers who boarded the train without knowing about the special Christmas present the Calendar Man placed onboard for Batman.

Red Robin gathered his cloak around him, stepped forward, waited for half a heartbeat, and then dropped down into the darkness.

 _Trust the night_.


	6. Railway Blues

Jason Todd had a deep, abiding hatred for riding on trains. It didn't matter what type of train it was: subway, monorail, Amtrak. Even those trains that went around amusement parks were not immune to his scorn and derision. He just disliked boarding anything that rolled along on a track.

Even streetcars irritated the hell outta him.

He developed his scornful attitude towards train rides during one of his earliest cases as Robin. The pasty-faced freak had placed bombs on subway trains across the city. He and Batman had raced the clock trying to find and defuse the bombs before they went off. They thought they managed to locate and disarm all of them.

Save for the one the Joker planted aboard a subway car he secreted into an abandoned subway station located deep below the old Bridge.

He could still remember that son of a bitch cackling before gleefully telling them how he had planted one last bomb where they would never find it. He and Batman had tried their hardest to get to that final bomb, even calling upon the GCPD and Superman to aid them in their quest, but they just hadn't managed to reach the missing subway car in time to deactivate that final bomb. Ten people died in what was the shortest train ride of their lives.

Jason had hated trains of all kinds ever since.

The only thing he hated more was the Joker.

"This is the worst freakin' idea you've ever had," he muttered as he sat beside Roy on a hard metal bench lovingly spray painted by some snot-nosed banger trying to show love to his gang. "And ya've had some terrible ideas the last few months, Harper."

"Like I told ya earlier, Jay-bird," Roy explained with that infinite patience he could freakishly display whenever he wanted. "Traveling by train is the most inconspicuous way for ya to get home to Gotham."

Just because it was the most inconspicuous way didn't mean he had to like it. Or didn't plan on letting his feelings be known about it.

"Maybe."

"Just trust me," Roy said as he tugged his baseball cap lower. "This is the only way ta get back ta Gotham."

Jason slouched on the bench and folded his arms across his chest.

"Guaranteed somethin' bad is gonna happen soon as we get on the damn train."

"Try and look on the bright side of things," Roy urged as a group of girls walked by, dragging mountains of luggage behind them and smelling like trouble. "We'll be riding back to Gotham in the company of some very lovely ladies."

Jason just snorted and tugged the bill of his baseball cap lower. He and Roy sat in companionable silence for several moments. Finally, Roy shifted towards him on the bench.

"So, mind tellin' me what your problem is with trains?" He cocked his side to the side. "Like, did ya get hurt on one or somethin'?"

"I failed ta save ten people from the shortest train ride of their lives."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

For once, Roy let him brood in silence. Jason appreciated his thoughtfulness, despite feeling like a complete asshole about it. If not that he needed to get back to Gotham without the Crime Syndicate being aware of it, he'd have said screw takin' the train and opted to fly home.  _Like we always do_ , he groused silently. However, flying wasn't an option. Not when a bounty was on the head of Batman and all his friends and associates.

Batman urged entering Gotham with as much stealth as possible. Only the fact that his usual approach of blowin' into town with guns blazin' would likely get people hurt kept him seated on that hard bench. And was the only reason when the train pulled into the station half an hour later that he and Roy joined the other passengers. They slept the almost eighteen hours it took to reach Gotham and awoke in a city engulfed in the midst of chaos.

Not like that was all that unusual, of course.


	7. New Years Calamity

She really oughta have known betta than ta take the stinkin' subway on New Year's Eve. It would be the quickest, safest and surest way for her ta cut across Gotham she told herself. Coppers wouldn't be lookin' for plain ole Harleen Quinzel on the subway. Nope, no way, nuh uh. She could get back ta her puddin' without worry of the B-Man or any of his winged rodents tryin' ta stop her.

Her plan wasn't without its share of drawbacks. Harley had learned when she was still quite young that there was a downside ta livin' in Gotham. Everythin' in this damn city came with a certain set of stipulations and an endless number of pitfalls and setbacks. It was the nature of the beast. Even she admitted there was somethin' wrong with Gotham. _And it goes far deeper and involves far more those of us labeled as the monsters in the dark_.

Takin' any sorta public transit in Gotham was just askin' for trouble. Buses tended ta be used as batterin' rams or for burnin' blockades. Cabs were either turned into bomb houses or used as bumper cars. Ferries and ship freighters made for great hideouts, drug or weapons dens. And the trains were used ta either transport bombs or citizens that unluckily got themselves kidnapped for whatever freaks purposes.

By far, she thought the subway was the worst outta the lot. If'n a gal wasn't gettin' her ass grabbed by some sleaze-ball than there was some jerkwad screwin' with things so that the trains didn't get where they had ta go. She had found herself in a pickle and opted to take the subway from Burnley to the station by the Monarch Theater. From there it was just a hop, skip and a jump to the old Mill that Mistah J had turned into their funhouse. However, if no train arrived, she wouldn't get where she was supposed to go. _So, who the hell is screwin' with things tonight_? she fumed as she stood with the other morons on the subway platform.

Welp, she knew for sure that it wasn't her puddin'. He was back at the Mill, waitin' for her ta bring him word about the whereabouts of the Batbrains and his flock of birds. And it couldn't be Ivy. She never focused any of her attacks on the subway tunnels. When she was on one of her eco-tirades she made long, twisty vines with huge man-eating plants cover the city. She also didn't think it was the Scarecrow. Ole Johnny would simply gas the people on the platform. _So, who could it be_? she wondered as she tapped a foot and heaved a long sigh.

Less than a second later, the delayed subway train came hurdlin' out of the tunnel in a mass of screamin' gears, screechin' wheels and with billows of smoke trailin' behind the last car. Harley caught a glimpse of two figures inside one of the middle cars before the train disappeared into the tunnel at the other end of the track. _Welp, guess I know where the B-Man and the Boy Blunder are_ , Harley thought as she planted her fists on her hips and gave a toss of her head.

Yup, she really oughta have known betta than ta have tried ta take the stinkin' subway on New Year's Eve. _Quickest, safest and surest way ta cut across Gotham_ , my ass, she thought as she turned to flounce from the platform.


	8. Train Riddles

Edward Nigma quietly schemed.

He patiently waited.

He spent hours watching the trains come and go out of Gotham Central.

He scribbled hundreds of notes about arrival times, highlighted when trains were most often delayed. He noted track usage, the times when foot traffic on the platforms was highest and lowest, how many passengers got on, and how many got off. He ran dozens of algorithms and examined all the schematics he could find to make sure that everything would go according to plan. Timing was key in these matters. One simply had to know when the perfect moment was to set a plan into motion. Same as one needed the ability to form a clever trap into a riddle, one also required the skills of a puzzle master to turn that trap into the perfect riddle.

When he had gathered all the necessary information, narrowed down the precise moment to spring his trap, and factored out all the ways that could prevent events from occurring as he wanted, he started to build the device that would house the most elaborate puzzle he ever created. As Edward worked, he thought about the reason for why he was doing this. This wasn't merely a way to outsmart that winged rodent and his troop of feathered brats. No, no, that was too limited in scope. Nor was this because he desired to prove his intellectual superiority over the banality that prevented most of Gotham's elite from accomplishing anything of true merit.

No, in short, the reason for why he decided on his course of action was because of the ever-present miasma of criminality that hung-over Gotham City. At the head of the pack was none other than the self-professed Clown Prince of Crime. Even the Riddler could not conceive of Gotham without the Joker. His theatrical antics, while lacking in style and sophistication, did manage to keep Batman occupied. It worked well to keep the attention off the rest of them. Edward could carry out his goals and agendas without worry of interruption. However, there was one tiny caveat he had not anticipated, never even imagined as possibly happening.

Edward doubted anybody expected the Joker to get himself killed in his last game with Batman. It had come as somewhat of a shock to turn on the television and see the caped crusader come strolling out of the Monarch Theater with the body of the Joker in his arms. He hadn't foreseen that the game between the self-professed Clown Prince of Crime and Batman would end like that. No, no. He, much like the rest of the criminals running amuck in the city had believed it would be the Joker who would end up killing Batman.

That, as the Riddler saw it, was the problem the city now faced. There was a vacancy in the very heart of Gotham City's criminal hierarchy. There was an empty seat at the table. with his demise. He, Edward Nigma, decided he would claim it for himself. Someone, like Two-Face or the Penguin, might embark on a campaign to kill the city's most popular citizens. Some, like Firefly or Poison Ivy, would launch attacks on Gotham's most famous landmarks.

That wasn't the Riddler's style. No, no. Instead, he viewed the situation in much the same way a chess player looked at a chessboard. Tonight, the board was Gotham. And much like there were three stages of chess, there would be three clues to his puzzle. Each riddle would lead to three different possible outcomes. Only one solution, however, was the one that would stop the trap. A slow smile curved Edward's lips as he finished the last-minute details. In less than ten minutes, three trains would embark upon their next journey.

The question was... which train ride was gonna be the shortest?


	9. Monorail Fears

He regretted his decision to support the restoration of the Gotham monorail system. Having an above ground transportation service had seemed like a good idea at the time. It offered services to parts of the city that the Gotham Transit Service couldn't. What seemed like a good idea, though had turned into a nightmare. He should have anticipated this being the most likely outcome. Life was ninety-percent retrospect, though.  _Especially in a city like Gotham_ , he thought as he raced across the top of the runaway monorail.

The gas the Scarecrow planned to release was getting closer to its final destination. If it reached the station beneath Wayne Towers, the outcome would be catastrophic. He had to stop the train before it reached the Gotham business district. He had to get to that first car. That's where the canisters of gas were. Once that was done, he would hunt down the Scarecrow and drag him back to Arkham.

Conscious or unconscious did not matter to him.

The train blew over a major intersection. At the edge of his peripheral vision, Batman saw a familiar figure in red-and-black armor. The scalloped end of their cape streamed behind them like wings. They careened around a street corner on a customized sports bike and swerved around a bus making a stop. Knowing Red Robin was close behind the train brought him some measure of calm. If he did stop whatever Scarecrow planned, there was still the possibility he had a backup plan in place.

_Red Robin can handle whatever else Scarecrow has planned_ , he thought as wind howled in his ears. The sound mingled with the screech and clatter of the monorail's wheels on the steel rails. The car swayed under his feet as the train went around a bend at breakneck speed. Ahead, he could see the silhouette of the Gotham City skyline. The towering spires gleamed against the moonlit sky. Wayne Towers stood tallest amongst them, its great big W was almost a beacon signaling the monorail home. At the speed the train was going, it would crash into the station in less than a minute, two at the most.

_I have to hurry_...

He had to get to that first car. He couldn't allow the train to get anywhere near the complex of tunnels that ran beneath Wayne Tower. If he failed, there would be an epidemic of unbelievable proportions to engulf Gotham. The amount of human lives, the suffering caused if he failed would be unmeasurable.

Failure was not an option.

He gathered himself to make the jump to the next car. In the back of his mind, Batman realized how this had turned into the shortest train ride of his life. He pushed the thought aside. Now wasn't the time to think of such things. The car went around another bend. Up ahead he saw the gaping black maw of the tunnel that led below the Tower. He only had seconds left.

He ran, jumped to the next car, ran and jumped...


	10. We Surrender

The monorail barely pulled outta the station when Nightwing showed up with one of his female gal pals. Harold J. Sneed — better known among his friends as Mr. Snee — found himself able to do nothing more than stand there as the two came crashing through the windows less than three feet away from him.

“Stop this monorail!” Nightwing ordered in a cool, calm voice. “ _Now_!”

Internally, Snee knew he oughta stick with his orders. The Joker wouldn’t like if they didn’t bring this monorail to him. However, Nightwing and Fenix weren’t part of the plans. That ulcer he hadn’t taken care of started to burn. It was the only warning he needed about what was gonna happen if they didn’t do exactly as Nightwing demanded.

“We give up!” He bleated, tossing his arms into the air. “We ain’t gonna put up a fight!”

Dopey and Mopey swung around at his words. Mopey let out a soft squawk and went to cower by the controls, but Dopey just frowned at the intruders before swinging his gaze over to Snee.

“We ain’t gonna what?” Dopey rasped around the wad of tobacco he stuck in his mouth before taking the controls. “We ain’t gonna put up a fight?” He fixed him with a dark, menacing look. “Who’n hell says we ain’t?”

“It’s Nightwing!” Snee hissed. “And Fenix!”

“Yanno that wherever they are,” Mopey added, shooting a fearful look at the silent duo. “Batman ain’t far behind!”

“So?” Dopey shot a stream of tobacco at the feet of Fenix. “We can take ‘em.”

“Are ya outta your freakin’ mind?” Mopey raked his fingers through his oily hair. “It’s the Nightbrat and Fe-bitch. We ain’t got any more of a chance at beatin’ them than we do the Bat.”

“Boss ain’t gonna care.” Dopey squared his shoulders and rolled his head from side to side, preparing for the ensuing fight. “He’d tell us to get ‘em.”

“Boss ain’t here,” Mopey said. “He ain’t the one who has ta fight ‘em.”

“And he ain’t the one who gonna have the busted bones,” Snee added. “Or have you forgotten about the last time you got in the Bat’s way?”

“Busted three of my ribs...” Dopey muttered. “And knocked out two of my teeth.”

“And ya think they ain’t gonna do that if we choose to attack them?” Mopey shook his head. “Nah uh, I’m with Snee.” He put his arms up. “I’m givin’ up.”

Dopey considered the situation for a few tense seconds. It was the shortest train ride that Snee had ever taken, but it was the longest thirty seconds of his life. Just when he thought Dopey was gonna balk and charge at the dark-haired woman watching them with an amused look on her face, he reached back and flipped the controls, bringing the monorail to a jerking stop.

“Hell with the Joker,” he grumbled as he held his arms up. “He wants this monorail? He can come here and get it himself.” He spat out another stream of tobacco. “He’s the one likes pissin’ off the Bat, anyway.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

It was the last train out of the station.

At that time of night, it usually meant the cars would be mostly empty. The few travelers slumped in their seats all wanted one thing: to get to their desired stops without any of the usual funny stuff happening.

This was Gotham, however.

The shortest train rides in Gotham frequently turned into the longest. Who hadn't heard about Firefly and Batman setting subway cars on fire? Who hadn't watched Batman battle that huge Bat-thing on GCTV? Who hadn't read the stories about runaway monorail trains, bombs planted in subways or bodies decorated as Christmas trees?

Not that any of this shocked the citizens of Gotham.

Gothamites quickly learned to roll with the punches. They went with the flow. Most accepted taking a train in Gotham might well cost them either their lives or limbs.

In a city ripped apart by violence on an almost constant basis, it was just wise to say a prayer before leaving the house.

Not that prayers would help the people on train 402.

Nothing would help train 402.

Its fate was decided long before any of her passengers climbed onboard. She was to play a key part in the plans of a man — a supposed doctor — hellbent on showing Gotham, as well as her stalwart protector the true meaning of fear.

At precisely 11:59 PM on December 2nd, 2018, a message interrupted all television broadcasts. People watched train 402 as she slowly pulled away from the station. And listened to the words spoken by a man who wanted to terrorize them so he could document their reactions in his research.

"Gotham cannot know true fear because it has a Dark Knight who is always ready to defend her. For years, you have stopped me from teaching this city what the meaning of fear is. It is not biology, Batman. It's more than a mere instinct.

True fear is found in the hopeless desperation one feels. It is the feeling that all hope has abandoned you. Tonight, Gotham will lose its hope. Tonight, the wings of a bat spread across the sky will bring them no comfort.

Tonight, you will not be able to protect them. You will fail them. And they will finally see how at the end of fear... is oblivion."

People all across the city could only watch as train 402 continued to travel towards her destination. A mile outside of Gotham she twisted off her tracks.

Why?

Because her wheels detonated a series of bombs fixed to the track of the trestle bridge that connected downtown Gotham with the rest of the city.

There were no survivors.

 


End file.
